


Strong Hands

by hit_the_books



Series: SMPC [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time, Drowning, Dry Humping, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Massage, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Masturbation, Pining, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 21:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17906453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: Sam almost drowns while on a hunt and it pushes Dean's feelings for his brother to the forefront of his thoughts.





	Strong Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Sunday Morning Porn Club](https://smpc.livejournal.com/) and it's my seventh time writing for them C:
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.

“DEAN!”

But Dean couldn’t get to Sam fast enough as the sound of splashing icy cold water met his ears. His bobbing head flashlight showed the eddy of water that was lapping at the cave floor shore, but he couldn’t see Sam. Pulling out his silver knife, Dean jumped into the water and started for where the circles of water had originated from.

He plunged into the freezing dark, air driven from his lungs as he fought the urge to suck down air. The water stung his eyes, but in the dim light of his flashlight he could see Sam still and unmoving, pale as death. A jolt from Dean’s right sent him spinning and he twisted to see the creature they’d come for. It was all scales and matted hair. Dean didn’t care what it was now. That they’d been tracking this water spirit for weeks. He sunk the silver blade into its side as it came for him, instantly killing it. Without giving it further thought, he used the last of the air in his lungs to swing back to Sam, grab him and head for the surface.

Dean was unsure how he did it, but he managed to get himself and Sam out of the water. Got Sam breathing again. Somehow even managed to get them changed into the fresh dry clothes they’d brought with them in their rucksacks. Even managed to get them out of the cave and into the Impala. All he does know is that he wakes up in the backseat of the Impala with a pale Sam in his arms, his brother breathing more shallowly than he’d like.

Not wanting to let go of Sam, Dean unwound himself from Sam’s prone form, cringing at how small his Sasquatch of a brother looked. For a moment he regretted dragging Sam away from Stanford all those weeks ago. But then he’s in the front seat getting the engine started and checking a road map for the nearest medical center.

***

“His lungs are clear and the antibiotics should kill anything he might have picked up.” The doctor looked up at Dean, his gray eyes sympathetic. “I suggest you both lay off the cave diving for a while.”

“Yeah, totally. I think we’ll stick to heated pools for now.”

The doctor held back a laugh and nodded. “We should be able to discharge your boyfriend tomorrow.”

Dean’s cheeks colored. But he didn’t do anything to correct the doctor. Dean had used an insurance card where Sam’s name was different from Dean’s—it was inevitable that sort of comment might happen. What with how close Dean had remained at Sam’s side. How he kept brushing his fingers over Sam to reassure himself that his brother was there and not at the bottom of a freezing inky black tomb.

The doctor left and Dean looked to Sam. He reached out and brushed Sam’s bangs away from his eyes. Sam had briefly been awake an hour ago, but he was dog tired and had drifted back to sleep. They’d been through a lot since Dean had turned up at Stanford, but he hadn’t wanted to put Sam in front of the firing line again. In fact he’d kind of thought Sam would have gone back to Stanford, regardless of what had happened to Jess and their missing father—just left Dean to get on with things.

Yet everyday Sam was still with him made Dean’s heart swell and he wasn’t sure he was allowed to relish that. He knew that… some of his feelings towards Sam weren’t exactly the ones he should be entertaining with having him around all the time. In fact Dean kept doing his best to just shove them down and ignore them. And right there and then as Sam laid unconscious, was not the time to thinking about stealing a kiss or more.

Dean took a shaking breath and stood up. “Coffee,” he said to the room. He checked his pockets for change, found some and headed towards where he thought he’d seen a couple of vending machines earlier. The medical center buzzed around him, but Dean drowned most of it out, beyond his usual checks for anything that might be supernatural.

No one else was by the machines once he reached them. He patiently put in his money, selected what he wanted and waited while the machine whirred and shuddered to make him something that he hoped was black and hot. Turning to the snack machine beside it, Dean pulled out some more cash and selected a protein bar and a candy bar, suddenly feeling hungry enough to do something about it, but nothing more than the minimum. He didn’t feel like eating until he had Sam out of the place. Coffee and snacks in tow, Dean headed back to Sam’s room and continued his vigil.

***

“Dean?” Sam sat up with some effort and met Dean’s eyes.

Dean’s stomach did a small flip at the cute forlorn look that clouded Sam’s face. “Hey there, Sammy.”

Sam pouted at the nickname. “Did we get it?”

Dean nodded. “It’s dead.”

Sam smiled and Dean wanted to curl around him and never let go. Instead he asked, “Thirsty?”

Licking his dry, chapped lips, Sam nodded slowly.

Dean picked up the water jug he’d filled a little while ago, poured some water into a cup and put a straw in it. He held it out to Sam who made no attempt to reach for it himself, just suckled at the straw instead. He sucked slow and carefully. Dean watched more than he should, eyes roving over every inch of Sam he could see, looking for further signs that he wasn’t just suffering from drowning, and maybe something more, but Dean wasn’t going to admit to that.

Sam let go of the straw, licks smacking together and gave Dean a lazy smile. “Did you give me the kiss of life?”

Memories driven back by the immediacy of fear crept up unbidden and Dean winced. He remembered how they got out of the water. How he got Sam breathing again. And where his original panic wouldn’t let him debase himself, his recall tried to change the moment in his mind's eye. Dean pushed away the memory of sensation, ignoring what his memories wanted to tell him about Sam’s lips.

“Ha, yeah. Well you did go and swallow half an underground lake,” Dean laughed and picked up his third cup of coffee as he set Sam’s water down.

Sam gave Dean a dopey grin. “I did.”

Dean slurped his lukewarm coffee. “Doc recommends you don’t do it again.”

“Shortest cave diving career ever, huh?”

“I am not one to criticize… but yes.”

Sam’s grin grew and Dean returned it, relishing that Sam was alive and breathing. Dean ignored the other feelings that were creeping up, ready to claim him if he wasn’t careful.

***

“I’m fine Dean,” Sam grumped as they drove along the highway, not towards a hunt, but anywhere they could just rest up for a few days. The sun is starting to set.

Glancing sideways at Sam for a second before returning his gaze to the road, Dean could see that Sam was lying. There was a paleness to him that showed Dean that Sam had yet to bounce back. And sure it was slightly maddening doing a whole load of nothing, but they both needed some R and R. The credit cards were good. Neither of them had heard word of the kind of hunt that specifically needed their immediate attention.

“Maybe I wanna chill out after hauling your ass, thought of that?” Dean shot back and instantly regretted it the moment he saw Sam slouch in the passenger seat.

“I’m s-”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean said before Sam could offer up some undeserving excuse. “But seriously, we can’t burn the candle at both ends.”

Sam snorted and didn’t say anything else. Dean checked him again before returning his attention to the road again. Before even this hunt, Dean had been pretty sure that something was up with Sam, beyond the death of Jessica, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. There was the not sleeping, but Dean figured that Sam was going through a bad patch with a touch of insomnia to go with it.

In the end they pulled into a little town in Wisconsin population less than 10,000 and found a motel that was a grade above what they usually sunk for. As they pulled into the lot, the vacancy sign red as blood above them, Sam reached out and brushed his hand across Dean’s knuckles.

“I know you’re just looking out for me,” Sam admitted.

Dean didn't have anything for that, just a nod and a smile.

***

Sam’s back gave a scary creak as they sat down on their respective king sized beds, Dean by the door like usual. Sneaking a look at Sam, Dean could see the way his brows knitted together as the pain radiated through him. Cramped up in a hospital bed and then the Impala wasn’t really good for anyone. Certainly no one as tall as Sam.

Before Dean could stop himself, he said, “Could give you a massage.”

Silence hung between them.

Finally Sam met his gaze, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and said, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, if you want one.” Dean had no idea what he was doing now. He’d help pop Sam’s limbs back into joints before, because they’d gotten dislocated. Rubbed all manner of things into his skin due to injuries. But a massage? This was unknown and dangerous territory. At least with Sam. The fact that Dean had learned how to give good massages thanks to Cassie in another lifetime was not up for discussion.

Sam shrugged, making his back crack again and winced. “Yes.”

“Uh, get comfortable,” Dean suggested and then started rooting around in his duffel. Behind him he could hear Sam moving around, the sound of fabric on fabric. There was one thing that he needed to make this work, he didn’t have anything fancy, but eventually he found what he was looking for. He didn’t use it for anything other than when he felt like his skin was super dry, because of having to decontaminate himself due to a hunt, but Dean Winchester had a bottle of Johnson’s Baby Oil that was just the right thing to make sure he didn’t give Sam friction burns.

Dean tried hard not to think about what Sam would look like oiled up, as he would be in a minute. The bed creaked behind Dean and he turned to see Sam laid out on his front, a towel beneath him, head pillowed on his arms, and another towel around his middle. He was clearly not wearing anything else but the towel. Dean had expected Sam to just sit on the edge of the bed, t-shirt off. This was dangerous territory.

Swallowing awkwardly, Dean pulled off his plaid shirt, kicked off his boots, and then climbed up on the bed dressed in his red t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“You’re sure?” Dean asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Sam flexed his shoulders and more cracking sounds issued from him making Dean cringe. He was doing Sam a favor, this didn’t mean anything bar helping Sam.

Dean climbed over Sam and came to a rest at his perfect ass, kneeling either side of it. Dean popped the lid off the baby oil, squeezed some onto his hands and put the bottle down on the comforter, lid closed. A voice in the back of his head said he should abort and abandon something that could go very, very wrong. Instead he ignored that voice, leaned forward and dug his hands into Sam’s back.

“Ummmmpf!” Sam groaned under Dean, in a voice that was not distinguishable from the few hushed sounds Dean had heard from Sam when he shouldn’t have heard them. Close quarters and minding your own business could only do so much after all.

Dean worked his hands out from Sam’s spine and curled his fingers and palms into Sam’s shoulders. Beneath him, Sam shook a little and then went lax, body giving into the motion of Dean’s hands. Slowly Dean worked his way around Sam’s back, hands finding every ache, every crook, every knot that had made Sam's bones sound like they were twenty years older than they really were.

When Dean was done with Sam’s back and neck, he fought the urge to move onto the next location. But his lips were shaping the words before he could stop himself. “Want me to massage your legs and… _cheeks_?”

Sleepily, Sam lifted up his head and looked over his shoulder. His pupils were blown. He swallowed, cheeks red, voice breathy and hoarse. “Sure.”

Dean took a shaky breath as Sam settled his head again. Scooting off of Sam’s butt, Dean knelt beside Sam and helped pull the towel back as Sam shifted his hips. Long legs and perfect cheeks confronted Dean and he knew he should make his excuses and back away. But knowing and doing were two completely different things. His brain wasn’t exactly in control as he pooled more oil between his hands and touched his hands to Sam’s butt cheeks. Sam whimpered, hips digging into the bed and Dean tried not to make a sound, ignoring the filling length in his own jeans.

Sam whimpered and moaned, hips giving little abortive thrusts and Dean didn’t stop, hands kneading into Sam’s ass.

“Dean,” Sam whimpered, body shaking.

Dean snapped his hands away, realizing what he had been doing. Before he could climb off the bed and back away, Sam was turning over, his hard flushed cock bouncing before him. He snatched his hand out and grabbed Dean’s wrist, his grip tight and demanding. Their eyes met and Dean let out his own whimper as he saw the desire sitting there in those hazel depths.

Sam brought Dean’s knuckles to his mouth and gently kissed them. “Is this okay?” he asked.

Dean nodded, and Sam pulled Dean down on top of him, hands finding his clothes and pulling them away. Sam’s mouth eventually found Dean’s and kissed his breath away. Eager and wanting, everything Dean had never dared to truly hope—Sam devouring his every breath and cry, chasing the taste of the burger Dean had for lunch. Sam wanted and Dean gave, writhing and rutting, baby oil and pre-come slicking the way.

Part of Dean wanted to know how long Sam had been on-board with the idea of the two of them being this, but he was pretty sure such questions could wait as Sam reached down between the two of them, and gripped both of their leaking cocks. Dean shouted and bucked into Sam’s hand, delighting in the press of Sam’s length against his own. Sweat, pre-come and oil mingled and they tasted each other again and again. Need, desire and love made Dean babble as Sam’s hand moved faster.

“Fuck, Sam, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Dean chanted over and over.

“Dean… fuck,” Sam couldn’t stop saying as he worked them together.

One final pull sent them crashing into release. Dean went boneless and collapsed against Sam. He shuddered and whimpered, Sam pressing kisses against his hair.

“Sssh, sssh,” Sam said hoarsely.

Come cooling between them, Dean finally moved to Sam’s side, curling against him and using the discarded towel to clean up their mess. It was Sam who brought the comforter over the two of them. It was Sam’s arms that Dean rested in.

“How long?” Dean finally asked after his breathing had returned to normal. He looked up at Sam, who was looking a lot less pale and waited for an answer.

Sam smiled. “Doesn’t matter.” He kissed Dean and Dean kissed him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on Pillowfort at [dreamsfromthebunker](https://www.pillowfort.io/dreamsfromthebunker), Dreamwidth at [hit_the_books](https://hit-the-books.dreamwidth.org/), Tumblr at [hitthebooksposts](https://hitthebooksposts.tumblr.com/).


End file.
